Renegades
by Lucky Dice Kirby
Summary: In which the Doctor lands somewhere unexpected, and Auron's a bit on the reticent side. So, what else is new? ‹doctor who•final fantasy x› ‹auron, ten›


In the Farplane, Auron wanders. The flowers are everywhere, and he wonders if allergies are applicable to the dead.

Things have a way of fading in and out of existence here, so when a big blue box materializes a few yards away from him, it's not as if it's surprising. Nor is the man who bounds out of it; people are prone to fading in and out as well.

What he doesn't expect is for the man to run up to him and start talking a mile a minute. Most residents of the Farplane keep their own counsel, a tendency Auron has found extremely agreeable in the past. Well. If his life has taught him anything, it's that nothing lasts forever.

"Right, where are we, then?" asks the man, bouncing up and down on the heels of his curious red shoes. "Lovely flowers, shame I haven't a clue what they are. Hmm, that's weird, me not having a clue. Doesn't happen that often. How novel!"

Auron snorts to himself.

"What?" asks the man. "If I didn't know any better, _I_'d say you were making fun of me."

"That would be correct," Auron says.

"Oi! Now, that's not fair, we've only just met! Nobody gets to make fun of me unless they've traveled with me, that's the rule." He stops to think a moment, wrinkling up his nose. "Well, it's not a rule, per se. More of an unspoken agreement. With me and the universe. That's it, I'm making it a rule. Effective five minutes ago." He smiles.

Auron would tell the man he's insane, but he feels it would be rather redundant at this point. Surely he's aware of it himself by now. Auron has no problem with insanity, as long as it stays well out of his way. "Rather futile, I should think," he says. "_You_ certainly won't be doing much traveling in the future."

The man raises his eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

"You do know where you are, I assume."

"I have absolutely no idea!" he exclaims, sounding not at all put out. Perhaps a bit simple, as well as crazy, then. "That's two things in one day. Might be a record, that. Oh, this is brilliant."

"Hmph."

"No much of a talker, are you?"

Auron doesn't dignify that with a response.

"Right! You know, that might be nice for a change. Good ol' stoic standing in the background, might help people respect me. D'you believe that, some people don't respect me?"

"I can't imagine."

The man's ever-present grin grows even wider. "So then, Mr. Stoic, where exactly are we?"

"The Farplane," says Auron.

"Right, right, the Farplane, yes, of course. Silly me. And where is that, exactly…?" The man trails of expectantly.

"The entrance is in the city of Guadosalam." Auron sizes up the man's quickly disguised blank look. "But that's not what you're asking, is it."

"Not exactly, no." The man pulls a pair of oddly colored spectacles from his pocket, putting them on and gazing about him with something akin to wonder on his face. Auron can hear him muttering various things to himself, although they're all unintelligible to him.

"The Farplane," Auron repeats. "The final resting place of the dead, in the land of Spira." If he didn't know any better, he'd say that the man came from Zanarkand. But Auron does know better, and he's no Tidus. He won't submit to flights of fancy so easily.

"Spira," the man says to himself. He recites it over and over, like a mantra. Then he smacks himself in the head, crushing the spectacles a bit. They slide down his nose. "Oh, I really, really should not be here," he says.

"I hope you're not expecting me to disagree," Auron says, because if anything, the man is certainly right about that. Zanarkand or no, he doesn't belong here.

"I cannot believe," the man continues, as if Auron hadn't spoken at all, "That I just wandered into a Class 15 Designation 48 Protected Planet. There're only three of them in the entire universe, what are the odds? The Shadow Proclamation will have my head."

"Only if they find out," Auron says, rubbing his nose idly.

"Oh, I like you," says the man. He seems to ponder something for a moment, pushing the spectacles back up thoughtfully. "How'd you like to run away with me? Being dead's a bore, I've certainly tried it enough myself. Always trust an expert." He taps his nose knowingly.

Well. It's not as if Auron hasn't broken the rules already. The last time he ran off with a crazy man who wasn't afraid of anything, it didn't turn out so bad. "I would be able to come back," he says. Because it's still his duty to watch over Tidus (one can never trust Jecht with these things), whether or not he has any idea of how to find him here. He's probably with his father, but neither of them has ever been in the habit of making things easy for Auron.

"Of course," says the man. "I don't go around kidnapping people, what kind of person do you think I am?"

"Alright, then," Auron says. "Provided I don't throttle you in the meantime."

"Trust me, you wouldn't bet he first. It doesn't take," says the man, and he begins walking back towards his blue box, apparently some sort of transport, then stops and turns just before he reaches it. He pulls off the spectacles, and tucks them back into his pocket. "Coming?"

Aurons follows him without comment. He nods once to the Farplane, a short farewell, before he steps inside the box.

Looking around the place, he gives a noncommittal grunt. Machina, through and through, good enough to put Zanarkand to shame. Rikku would have a heart attack. Auron misses her, suddenly and painfully. He misses all of them. He scoffs at himself, putting the thought out of his mind. There is but one certainty in the world, and that is that he will see them again one day. Auron had never found death so comforting before he died.

In response to his grunt, the man gapes at him. If he can read any of Auron's thoughts on his face, he doesn't show it. "That's all you've got to say?"

Auron raises an eyebrow. What is he waiting for, shock and awe?

The man sighs. "You," he says plaintively, "Are no fun at all. What's your name, anyway?"

"You may call me Auron."

"Okay, Auron," says the man, yanking a switch on what appears to be the control panel of the machine. It jerks to life, and Auron wonders briefly how safe this thing can be. Oh, to hell with it. Probably doesn't matter, he's already dead. What's the worst that can happen? "I'm the Doctor," he continues, "And _you_ are going to hold this down for me so that-"

They bank to one side suddenly, and Auron has to grab onto the controls and adjust his stance to keep himself balanced. The Doctor grins manically and lets out a great whoop. Auron sighs, feeling as if he's back to babysitting Tidus, and does what the Doctor told him to.

"Now," says the Doctor, apparently unconcerned. "_Now_ you can make fun of me."


End file.
